Lonely Vigil
by Espiritu
Summary: Waiting is the hardest part. One Shot COMPLETE.


Title: Lonely Vigil  
Author: Espiritu  
Rating: PG  
Category: Angst/Drama  
Spoilers: Anything up to 'The Eye' to be safe  
Summary: Waiting is the hardest part.  
Author Notes: The story fairy gave this to me so I had to write it down before it was lost forever. I am still working on the next chapter of Retribution and will post it in the near future. Thanks to all you reviewers and writers who continue to inspire me with your kind words and wonderful stories.  
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis isn't mine and never will be. MGM got it first and won't give it up. 

Lonely Vigil

So it began. The waiting, the worry, the holding on to hope. It started as it always did with her watching from the balcony overlooking the gate room as the team went off on their latest mission. Then, as always, she sent them off with wishes for a safe return as they entered the stargate and disappeared from view.

Although she worried about all the people under her command, this particular team always caused her the greatest concern. They were four of the best their expedition had to offer, their combined talents and personalities unique and irreplaceable. Atlantis needed them, she needed them. One in particular even more than the other three. He was the rock upon which she built her foundation, her calm in any storm. She could never fully relax until he came back safe and sound.

This trip was harder than most. The team got caught in the cross fire during a clash between warring factions of the planet's population. They had barely made it back to Atlantis during the fierce battle. One team member managed to remain unscathed, two sustained only minor injuries, but the forth took several bullets while protecting his teammates during the escape from the fight. Refusing to leave any of their own behind, the three half dragged, half carried their bleeding, semi-conscious colleague on a headlong rush to the stargate, determined to get safely home.

She was at her usual post in the control room when the stargate began dialing up far ahead of plan. During this unscheduled activation, the gate crew received an identity code from a member of the team, though not the code that normally signaled their return. Her intuition told her that something was horribly wrong, and she alerted the medical staff seconds before they received notification that the team was coming through with injuries.

The iris burst open in a flood of blue light, disgorging the three battle-worn and weary figures supporting their hurt comrade. She rushed down to where they were easing his body onto the floor awaiting the arrival of the emergency medical team. Her heart pounding, she reached out to him, trying to ignore all the blood that seeped onto the floor and stained her hands and clothes. His blood. His life spilling onto the floor.

The barely conscious man briefly clutched her hand and looked up at her with pained eyes, his mouth straining to form words. But before he could tell her what he wanted to say, his eyes rolled back and he succumbed to the darkness that claimed him. She stood shocked for several long minutes, numbly lost in the chaos as the medical team lifted him onto a gurney and whisked him away to the infirmary with the rest of his team in tow. Coming to her senses, she rushed after them, desperate to know his condition.

The medical staff was under standing orders that the normal infirmary visiting hours did not apply to her. Not because she was Carson Beckett's commander or even his friend, but because of what this one patient meant to her. And what she meant to him. So while the rest of Atlantis slept, she alone held silent vigil throughout the darkness of night into the wee hours of the early daybreak.

It seemed far too many times she was in this position, spending long midnight hours sitting alone patiently by his bedside. Too many times sitting in an uncomfortable infirmary chair, being lulled into fitful catnaps by the soft, incessant beeping of monitors. Too many restless nights spent with a weary body and a heart too heavy to care. Too many mornings sitting restless in meetings fueled solely by endless cups of coffee, her mind only half on the business at hand, the other half wanting to get back to his side.

This time the wait seemed longer than most. The unconscious man before her lay pale and unmoving, still recovering from his recent traumatic injuries. Though Carson attributed his patient's survival to his strength of will, natural resiliency, and sheer good luck, she knew the determined doctor had managed to pull off a medical miracle. From the moment the critically injured man had come back through the stargate, Beckett was there working tirelessly to save his life.

Twice the patient had coded--the first upon arrival in the infirmary, the second during the hours of surgery needed to repair the damage. But Dr. Beckett refused to surrender his friend to the grim reaper and pulled him back each time from the brink of death. The good doctor never gave up, even when there appeared to be little hope the wounded man would survive.

Finally after four long and emotion-wrenching days, the patient appeared to turn the corner. Several times more than really necessary, Beckett had rechecked his patient's vital signs, worriedly fussing with equipment, and belaying information and instructions to his staff. This morning, the Scotsman had actually looked happy with the results as he examined the recovering patient, inspected his medical chart, and evaluated the readouts from the various monitors. Looking up at her, Beckett smiled and told her the worst was over. It would take time, but the patient would eventually recover.

This morning's pronouncement was welcome news not only to her, but to the entire population of Atlantis. Throughout the day, Beckett and his staff had to constantly answer inquiries about his patient's status, often forced to turn visitors to the infirmary away so the medical team could work in peace. She sometimes wondered if the injured man in the bed next to her even knew how much he was respected and admired by all those under her command. If only he knew how much he was loved.

She sat quietly with her anxious hands covering one of his as it lay motionless by his side. An IV line snaked along his other hand, feeding him life-supporting fluids and pain-suppressing medications while a nasal canula supplied his healing lungs with life-giving oxygen. He was connected to a host of wires feeding into equipment that monitored his vitals, their steady beeps supplying the room's only sound.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan emanating from the bed's occupant as he started to regain consciousness. She arose from her seat and leaned over the bed, watching him intently and silently willing him back to the land of the living. His eyes slowly opened, their green depths weary from pain and dulled by the long, healing sleep. They gradually focused on her as she watched him with a combination of concern and elation across her face. His voice hoarse and weak from disuse may have come out as barely a croak, but it was music to her ears.

"Elizabeth...?" He breathed her name as if questioning that she was really there.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears of relief, she answered gently.  
"Yes, John. I'm right here. Everything's okay now. You're going to be fine."

Once again the wait had ended. For now, her lonely vigil was done.

(Fini)


End file.
